


the ties that bind

by wintercelestial



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: 5 seconds of emotions, Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercelestial/pseuds/wintercelestial
Summary: for the smut prompt “If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” but with bondage elements because I can be tempted with bad ideas and Lucifer probably only likes to be tied up if he can Escape™ whenever he wants lmfao
Relationships: Diavolo/Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 191





	the ties that bind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nerieda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerieda/gifts).



> a prompt fill for obeymestudentcouncil@tumblr!! follow her for the good stuff

Chains are for beasts like Cerberus, for slaves, and for wrongdoers.

The irony of such a concept is that Lucifer wears them to the demon prince’s bed, at Diavolo’s behest.

The black chains loop around his wrists and ankles, curling over each bicep and thigh to meet in criss-crosses over his chest, draping down his back to pool on the bedsheets. He sits on his calves amongst them, skin bare and dusted with the mildest of blush. The ends trail away from his wrists to cinch tight around the corners of the headboard and while the length enables him to move, how far he can go is another matter entirely.

It is perhaps a variant of bondage that Lucifer will not admit he enjoys to a degree – the type that does not steal away his control, and allows him to decide his own level of vulnerability while he remains… secured.

Diavolo kneels over him, ravenous, his mouth exploring the warm delights of Lucifer’s own. The sight in his bed is indulgent beyond measure.

The downward rush of blood already gathers in his groin, his hands sweeping the gentle swell of Lucifer’s chest, fingers skipping over the chains bound around his naked body. Diavolo’s breath catches in his throat.

“Tell me where you obtained these,” Lucifer commands him, in the fleeting moments that pass between each kiss. His last defences plead surrender. He tugs experimentally at the chains with one arm, hard enough to make the headboard creak – and recoils slightly when he tastes the _power_ emanating from every link.

“From the dungeons,” Diavolo murmurs into the suppleness of Lucifer’s lips, considering briefly if he should bite. “If you can feel their enchantments, then you must know they will not break for you.”

An angel could have flown past unscathed in the ensuing silence, broken only by the baritone of his soft laughter.

The look Lucifer throws at him is full of disapproval. “I allowed you to change from the ropes and leather,” he says dryly, “and you put me in a _sinner’s_ restraints?”

Diavolo smothers him with another kiss, so deep it renders them both nearly breathless. He chases for more, his hands desperate for the feel of skin.

“You are no sinner in my eyes, Lucifer.” Even his words themselves are a gentle caress. “Would anything else ever have the fortitude to hold you?”

Diavolo purrs with satisfaction as Lucifer averts his eyes from the praise, redness spreading further down his neck like an untamed wildfire. He studies the view before him, golden eyes glowing with appraisal in the candlelight of the royal quarters.

“I could always leave you here until you change your mind,” he hums, as if lost in wondrous thought, “while knowing that you’d still be here when I come back.”

Lucifer bristles at the comment, hackles raising, but a spare glance between Diavolo’s legs assures him the demon prince is far too trapped in his own desires to simply _walk away._

“You would not,” Lucifer snipes, but his resolve wanes when the Diavolo swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“I need to brush my teeth,” Diavolo tells him, grinning so disarmingly that Lucifer’s judgement lapses, replaced instead by frustration. The Avatar of Pride lunges after him with an offended huff, current predicament forgotten, one hand reaching for–

The chains pull taut, no more length to spare, and Lucifer’s fingers miss Diavolo’s arm by mere inches.

Diavolo hears him snarl all the way from his bathroom.

It is a distinctly terrifying noise _,_ guttural and animalistic, as if Hell itself had roared in fury. He shudders from head to toe as the last notes fade away into _want_.

“If you keep making those sounds,” Diavolo warns him, voice echoing around the glazed extravagance of his bathroom as he sets his toothbrush down, “I am not going to be able to stop myself.”

He sees his own gaze in his reflection, tongue running over his teeth, gold pupils darkening with lust when he hears a second snarl coming. A call to return, and _at once._

He finds Lucifer in his demon form, still draped in chains and sprawled out on the end of the bed, only now thrice the daring temptation. The metal quivers with the struggle of bearing its burden, but it does not yield. Diavolo’s mouth falls open in barely concealed surprise.

Lucifer hisses at him again, the white of his fangs almost showing. The palpable aura he exudes hangs thickly in the air. His wings lie closed against his back, straining under more chains.

“You had the _gall_ to leave me here alone,” he growls, his face burning, “while you flounced off to brush your _teeth_?”

The bed wobbles dangerously as Diavolo pounces onto it, hand fisting around the chains splayed across Lucifer’s chest, reining him in for sincere words whispered among kisses of apology. Lucifer returns his affections with a mix of need and reluctance, straddling the fence between a multitude of emotions.

He will wear these chains for Diavolo, even if for no reason other than to whet his sexual appetite, but he will _not_ be denied.

He grips the wrist of the demon prince, now that he is close enough to touch again, and pulls him down on top as they settle into the throng of satin sheets.

“I can promise you I intended to leave no part of you untouched,” Diavolo breathes into the sliver of space between them, a string of saliva connecting their swollen lips together before being swallowed up again. “How could I resist you, Lucifer, when you look the way you do?”

The weight of Diavolo’s bulk atop him is reassuring, his thighs on either side of him like sentries at a gate. A subtle grind of hips pulls a staccato of gasps from Lucifer as he tips his head back, allowing Diavolo access to the softness of his neck.

The chains lie warm against Lucifer’s chest, now no colder than the heat that radiates from his skin, heavy and solid and secure. While the ropes too had been a symbol of restraint, Lucifer had borne them knowing they had no true leverage over him, had borne them just to watch Diavolo’s control over his own desire crumble.

The chains that bind him truly do not release.

He feels the power thrumming through his touch, now that he knows it is there. It does not taunt him – in the same way that Diavolo teases but does not torment – but it is not his enchantment, and as such refuses to bend to his whims.

The idea of no escape brings hesitance. Humiliation, from denial. It comes hand in hand with a conflicting sense of apprehension and titillation – he is pride, after all, not a creature to be owned. Yet here in the wake of his weakness there is shelter and protection and _Diavolo_ , and the demon prince has eyes for absolutely nothing else in the world.

As if his errant thoughts have been sifted through and quietly perused, Lucifer feels the touch of hands upon his body again, tender as they coax his thighs open.

“I will untie you, if that pleases you more.” Diavolo’s contrite voice is a breath into the pulse of his neck, his hands still toying, tracing down to the hardness of Lucifer’s length.

“I do not recall asking you to do so.”

Diavolo smiles winsomely. “And if I leave you be, will you growl at me again?”

Lucifer is of half a mind to, as he is sometimes wont to do when Diavolo thinks he can let his tongue fall out of line. Instead he silences himself, if only to deprive his lord of the satisfaction of an answer. He bites down on his lip when fingers slyly dip between his spread legs and inside him.

Diavolo works him open like they have all the time in the world, the aroma of massage oils subtle and cloying, watching Lucifer’s eyes fall closed under his ministrations. Dark strands of hair spill over his face at the turn of his head and his wings twitch in their constraints, indistinguishable in the black on black. Stray feathers stand at odd angles as they catch in the chains that encompass them.

Diavolo leans forward and captures his lips again, slow and unhurried as his fingers continue to pump in and out of him, tongue curling into the darkest recesses of Lucifer’s mouth. His cock strains without its release and the muscles of his thighs bunch with the effort of self-discipline.

A hand grasps the chains trailing from Lucifer’s left wrist, gathering them up with those from his right. He is allowed a deep breath, and then Diavolo hoists both of Lucifer’s arms up until they’re pinned to the bed above his head.

Open – exposed _–_ Lucifer balls his fists, scarlet claws digging into his palms. Diavolo’s body towers over him, chest to chest, mouth dropping wet kisses along his jawline. He feels… held. Safe.

He rests his calves in the small of Diavolo’s back, exhaling a long breath as the fingers in him withdraw, replaced by the head of Diavolo’s cock. It nudges its way into his entrance, sinking past the tight rim until all of it is seated inside.

Were Lucifer not bound, he would have considered snatching a handful of those red locks to dissuade Diavolo from his usual antics – _stop marking me there, do you want every demon to see?_

He digs a heel in, his command clear. _Move._

“Now,” he orders, and Diavolo lovingly chants his assent into his throat, a medley of mottled red and purple already blooming in the paleness.

Diavolo thrusts languidly and Lucifer arches into him, shivering as another hand runs up the side of his body and to his face, cupping his cheek and thumb brushing across his lower lip.

“You know I do not have it in myself to hurt you,” Diavolo sighs, and Lucifer does not know whether it is from pleasure or something else entirely.

He falters in his reply, because suddenly he realizes this not about possession or ownership or even bedroom aesthetics, it is about–

_Stay, Lucifer. Don’t leave._

Lucifer cannot hold back the sounds that escape him, nor does he not bother to. Diavolo is not as rough with him as he usually is, instead learning Lucifer’s body as if this were their first time, hips lazy and mouth roaming, fangs grazing over delicate skin on their way past. Words of worship roll off his tongue like honey.

Diavolo grants him his release long before pursuing his own, a soft rumble tumbling from parted lips as Lucifer squeezes around him in pulses to milk him dry. Diavolo collapses onto the bed, weary but contented, sliding an arm around Lucifer’s waist to pull him into his embrace. He kisses Lucifer’s sweat-dotted forehead, smoothing his hair down around the twist of his horns and rearranging the ruffled black feathers back into place. Lucifer’s eyelids flutter briefly as his breaths settle into a soundless, even rhythm.

They lie entangled in each other for a while longer, before Diavolo sits himself up to escape sleep’s clutches. He reaches for the chains coiled around one corner of the headboard, fingers working quickly to untie the knot. He unloops the hefty links from each of Lucifer’s limbs with meticulous detail, one by one, until the last black chain slips from his shoulders to join its brethren on the sheets.

Diavolo picks up the pile to toss it away. “I think I will return these to–”

Lucifer cuts him off by seizing his forearm, and the chains clink and jangle at the jerk of the unexpected movement. Diavolo tilts his head at him questioningly.

Lucifer’s hand drops back onto the bed, red barely visible from beneath his lidded eyes.

“You do not have to,” he says, so quietly that Diavolo has to lean down to hear him properly. “I am fine. I was… comfortable.”

Diavolo’s expression is pensive as he regards Lucifer for the longest time, seemingly weighing thoughts on his mind’s scales. The chains fall from between his fingers and collect on the floor. 

“I only wish for you to stay,” he says, to which Lucifer folds his arms and shoots back with the faintest snort, “Why would I go anywhere else?”

And it is forgiven and forgotten, if only just for now, bonds sealed and strengthened.

Diavolo fetches warm washcloths and wrings them out in the bathroom before returning, tendrils of steam dissipating into the air. He wipes at the droplets of cooling seed decorating Lucifer’s belly, working his way down to the blend of massage oil and Diavolo’s own essence on his thighs, and finally a second cloth cleanses his sticky sweat away. Sheets that smell like the prince of demons are cast over him and he curls up with the solidness of Diavolo’s body tucked against his.

“You must be tired,” Diavolo comments, fingers stroking down the primaries of Lucifer’s wing feathers. “Rest.”

“Of course, after that experience,” Lucifer replies, but he is sleepy to the point where his pointed façade has become relatively harmless. “I will have you in those chains next time, and then you can see how _you_ like it.”

What follows is a noise of piqued interest, coupled with lashings of enthusiasm.

Lucifer glances over to find curious gold eyes peering intently back at him.

“And may I ask if that is a threat or a suggestion, Lucifer?”


End file.
